


Anger

by prettydamnlame



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettydamnlame/pseuds/prettydamnlame
Summary: Tyler only gets angry when he needs to protect Josh. Josh only gets angry when he needs to protect Tyler. A two-part story.





	1. Tyler

It took a lot for Tyler to be pushed to the point of anger these days.

Those years of spiralling youth that had culminated into the catastrophic breakdown of his late teens and early twenties had been a spectacular, messy time, but it was an ultimately fortuitous experience that had seen the birth and growth of his music. Tyler had fought his way through and emerged triumphant from that trial, and ever since that experience, the singer had found himself - though admittedly still prone to bouts of extreme melancholy and self-inflicted isolation - a lot more resilient and able to endure without becoming irrationally, furiously angry.

Yet, when Tyler Joseph snapped, he completely and utterly _snapped_.

Granted, that kind of thing didn’t happen too often anymore – he could go for months, even years without anything happening – mainly thanks to his music, and to Jenna, and to Josh. In fact, nowadays, it was only when one of those three were threatened that his emotions would overpower him. The genial, mellow side of him would be rendered powerless, completely at the mercy of powerful internal waves of feeling that seemed to dictate what he said and did without any input from the rational side of his brain at all.

* * *

 

The interview was about half way through when it happened. The interviewer disobeyed Tyler’s express orders.

“Josh, what do you think?”

Tyler felt a stab of annoyance and his shoulders twitched, unbidden.

The singer had quietly explained to the magazine interviewer that Josh was feeling unwell today - paralysed with anxiety, unable to string together a coherent sentence - and so would not be participating.

The drummer was still seated right beside Tyler - needing to be close, as always - but his lips were pressed shut, legs crossed defensively, and hands pulled entirely inside his hoodie sleeves childishly. Tyler looked over at his best friend, whose eyes had widened at the surprise of being directly addressed, deer-in-headlights style.

“Don’t.” Tyler spoke loudly, holding the palm of his hand out toward the interviewer strongly. “I told you before we sat down, that’s not happening.”

“Come on, Josh,” the interviewer insisted on speaking to the drummer.

Tyler almost winced as he felt his best friend shrink even further into the couch beside him, knowing more then anything that Josh wanted to become completely invisible.

“Surely you’ve got something to - ”

“Are you _serious_?” The singer burst out, looking in disbelief at the interviewer. “ _I said no_!”

The interviewer, suddenly aware of how serious Tyler was, stuttered out an awkward apology.

“We’re done here.” The words were dismissive, and Tyler could feel himself shaking with anger. Josh didn’t need this.

The drummer stood up moments after his bandmate did, eyes still downcast, and allowed the singer to wrap his fingers tightly around his tattooed wrist. The two left the interview room without another word, and the interviewer was left alone and deeply embarrassed.

“What was - !?” A flurry of personal assistants appeared immediately, ranging from flustered and timid to outright annoyed, all chirping inane questions and angering Tyler even more.

“My bandmate isn’t well,” Tyler spat out clippedly. “I told them not to ask him anything and they _still_ fuckin’ - ”

“Then _you_ just answer the questions.” One interjected falsely brightly and incredibly unhelpfully. It was all Tyler could do right then not to scream.

“I _did_! An’ I _would’ve_!” The singer was aware he was shouting, but he couldn’t stop. _He’d snapped_. “I don’t care about _me_ , I’ll answer their fuckin’ dumb ass questions ’til I’m blue in the goddamn face, but _I told them to leave Josh alone_!”

“Tyler, we’re sorry, it’s - ”

“ _I don’t care_!” Tyler shouted. “I don’t give an actual _fuck_! What happened in there was _unacceptable_ \- ”

“ _Tyler_.” Josh spoke for the first time that day and Tyler choked on his next round of shouts. His yellow-haired best friend had been so quiet he'd almost missed it. The drummer didn’t say anything else, just wrapped the hand that wasn’t already in Tyler’s into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie and met his bandmate’s eyes fleetingly before returning them to his feet. _Let’s go_.

* * *

 

Josh could feel Tyler shaking, adrenaline from the anger still coursing through him, as they piled into the backseat of the first Uber they could get.

After the singer had given the address of their hotel to the driver, Josh wasted no time. He curled one hand, then both, around Tyler’s forearms and pulled his bandmate close to hold him tightly. The drummer couldn't verbalise how much he wanted to thank his best friend in that moment, but he hoped the embrace would show it. 

Hot tears stabbed at the corners of the drummer’s eyes. He knew everything Tyler did was for him. Tyler loved him endlessly and would protect him from anything. 

The yellow-haired man felt Tyler’s fingers grip and loosen, grip and loosen, a familiar rhythm around Josh’s torso, and a well-practiced, non-verbal cue between the two when Josh was non-communicative otherwise.

Tyler was reminding him:  _I'm always here. I'm always here._

 


	2. Josh

Joshua Dun was an absolute kitten, and everyone knew it. He was curious about everything; absolutely everyone interested him, and he was gentle in a way that other men of his size and stature just _weren’t_. Josh held doors open for strangers and invited people to cut in line in front of him at Chipotle.

His best friend loved to tease him mercilessly for being so unfailingly kind, but if Tyler Joseph was pressed, it was this trait of Josh’s that thrilled him most.

Before Josh, Tyler wasn’t sure he knew what genuine selflessness looked like.

Now he did.

Almost as thrilling to Tyler as Josh’s effortlessly kind default nature was his rarely seen, electrifying anger.

Joshua Dun didn’t shout when he was angry. He became a silent, towering _titan_. He became _completely terrifying_.

* * *

 

Looking at Tyler’s slack face as his bandmate dozed against him, Josh wasn’t sure that taking the flight that landed into CMH at three in the morning was the best course of action after all. They had both agreed this was the only way they would avoid the kind of overwhelming attention from fans and media outlets before Tour De Columbus – this way, Josh had reasoned, they were slipping back into Ohio unseen.

Yet, seeing just how wrecked Tyler was from the bizarre hours they’d been keeping between the winding up of the Emotional Roadshow and this new set of shows, Josh’s stomach began to churn uncomfortably. He’d let himself think of what was best for _himself_ instead of his best friend. He felt a hot flush burn its way up his neck and into his cheeks.

Usually Josh knew what was best for Tyler and he _always_ chose that course of action. But this time, he’d slipped up. The churning in the drummer’s stomach morphed into a slippery vortex of anxiousness. How could he have done this? His main priority was _always_ Tyler. Without Tyler running at the top of his game, this whole thing fell apart. Twenty One Pilots was less then nothing without Tyler. _Josh_ was less then nothing without Tyler.

The plane landed, and Josh stirred his best friend gently. “Ty, we’re here.”

The brunette protested a little, nuzzling into Josh’s shoulder pathetically. He didn’t want to move, even if it meant spending the rest of his life inside this airplane cabin.

“C’mon, Ty.” Josh ran a cool hand through Tyler’s brown hair soothingly. “I’ll drive us to yours and you can sleep in the car the whole way, I promise.”

The singer groaned some more, but stood up slowly, blinking around owlishly. Josh smiled. As soon as he got Tyler back to his and Jenna’s home for the night (or rather, morning), he’d forgive himself.

* * *

 

Josh’s stomach had just been beginning to settle as the two men were wheeling their suitcases out of baggage claim toward the car park when a sudden shout alarmed them both. It was still pitch black, save for the lazy trail of headlights moving around the airport terminal, so being shouted at was more then a little unnerving.

“Tyler! Josh!”

Some idiot was running toward them with a professional-level camera; this was obviously an overzealous media outlet photographer. Josh froze.  _Shit_.

Tyler, too exhausted to even react, just turned away wordlessly. Josh maneuvered himself between his best friend and the photographer and said as calmly as he could manage: “Sorry man, no photographs tonight, we’re both - ”

The camera went off anyway, a triggering series of loud, metallic clicks that caused Tyler to flinch like he’d been slapped. This little movement of Tyler's caused Josh’s entire being to heat up by a thousand degrees.

Blood roared in his ears. His jaw clenched. Josh was _furious_.

The photographer attempted to step around the drummer, wanting to get a close-up of Tyler, when Josh’s hand shot out.

The man’s fingers locked around the photographer’s wrist, stifling their movement any further. “If you raise that camera to my friend’s face again I’m going to break it, do you understand me?”

It wasn’t a shout. It was barely even a raised tone of voice. But Josh had spoken with the kind of chilling authority that made the photographer hesitate. “You can’t - ”

Josh’s grip on the stranger’s skin tightened and twisted uncomfortably, a silent threat. The photographer stilled immediately, sensing an imminent escalation.

“You’re making my best friend feel uncomfortable. I’ll do what I see fit in order to protect him.” Josh’s voice was still level, still calm. Yet there was a terrifying edge of raw power radiating off the drummer.

“Get out of our way and leave us alone. I won’t tell you twice.” The man let go of the other’s wrist suddenly and the photographer felt as if he had been released from a vicegrip.

Cursing at the both of them and at himself, the photographer scrambled away and didn’t look back.

Tyler was still standing where the photographer had attempted to corner him. His eyes were even wider then before, a little stunned at what had just happened.

Concerned, the drummer pressed his thumb into the soft flesh of Tyler’s elbow. His strong, callused hand curling around the singer’s elbow supportively. “Ty, are you alright? I’m so sorry, this late flight was such a stupid, stupid idea - ”

“M’alright,” Tyler finally rasped out, shaking his head a little (as he sometimes had to do) in order to get the thoughts out of his mind and onto his tongue. He was so tired his words were slurring together, but he was so grateful: Josh was always there to protect him when he couldn’t protect himself.

Whatever good deed Tyler had done in his past life to deserve a best friend like Joshua Dun in this life had _definitely_ been worth it.

“M’always alright… b’cause of you. Thanky’.”

The roaring in Josh’s ears and the churning in his stomach calmed down a little at his best friend’s words.

“Let’s go home, Jishwa. Y’r’drivin’.”

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 will be Josh's chapter!


End file.
